


If Not for Himself

by sugarmoons



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: ? - Freeform, Angst, Anxiety, Auror Harry Potter, Established Relationship, I'm Bad At Tagging, Lies, M/M, Post-War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22214131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarmoons/pseuds/sugarmoons
Summary: Draco and Harry never seem to have days off together anymore, to make sure the other lives they made a deal to do stuff when they were off as if the other was there. The big problem is that Draco won't leave the flat unless he's with Harry or if he's going to work. The issue with that is Harry doesn't know.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

Draco wondered how many hours it would take Harry to get home. He hated days off when he couldn’t share them with his boyfriend but due to premade arrangements days off together were always a rare occurrence. To make up for it they vowed to make the best of their off days as if the other was there.

Draco had started by doing that but after a couple of months he couldn’t bring himself up to it. He despised going out alone, the irrational fear that everyone was waiting for him to fuck up was too thick. He could feel the non-existent eyes travel over his skin looking for his mistake to be out, blaring black against his pale skin. Even surrounded by Muggles he still felt the pressure to be perfect. He knew that once misstep around anyone could land him back in an interrogation room awaiting a mind ripping questioning. 

He refused to tell Harry about his fears. How months before they got together the aurors that he replaced were throwing questions at him like poisonous arrows, the poison seeping deep into his veins scarring his mind. Making him believe he was guilty even if it was just of cowardice. 

He pulled himself from their bed, running his fingers through his hair. It was getting long and it hung messily down the side of his face. If he didn’t tell Harry himself he’d soon notice by how unkempt his hair was. He used to keep it so tidy, slicked back and out of his eyes. He could slide away under the guise of Harry liking it messy but sooner or later it would become straggly. 

He dragged himself to the kitchen and began making himself breakfast which was more of a lunch when you looked at the clock. He heated up some leftover pasta from the night before and slowly ate it whilst staring blankly out of the window. If he was going to act like this he needed to at least eat, to make some effort if not for himself but for Harry. 

He cleaned his bowl and plopped down on the couch. He flicked through the wonders of muggle tv. Drifting into mindless shows that were shallower than his parents affection for one another. It made him think about how little a factor love was in their marriage, how it was all done in the name of blood purity. The thought made him shiver. When he was younger he vouched for the same ideals they had but by the time he was forced into a role he did not want he realised that they could be wrong. That his parents he always held on a pedestal were all but mortal. Making more mistakes than he had in all his years. 

Harry arrived home after eight. His hair was messy and dirt was embedded under his nails. Today was a day in the field instead of writing up countless pages of paperwork In his hand was a bag full of takeout. Which he placed on the counter before greeting Draco on the couch.

“What did you do today, Sweetheart?” Harry asked, his fingers twirling a tendril of platinum hair.  
“Nothing much,” Draco murmured back into Harry’s ear.  
“Do you want to eat through here or at the table?”  
“Here’s fine,” Draco replied as Harry stopped playing with his hair.  
None of Draco’s past relationships ever got to play with his hair like Harry did. He didn’t like it when they ruffled it or twisted it around their fingers. But when Harry did it, it felt like heaven. It made the hairs on his arms stand on end with quiet excitement. 

Harry came through after he piled the food onto plates, then spelled two glasses full of wine to sit on the coffee table in front of them.

“What were you chasing today?” Draco asked worry weaved in his words, Harry’s hero complex hadn’t diminished with Voldemort. It clung to him like wet clothes, he didn’t save everyone before so he’d make sure he’d save everyone now.  
“Some death eater fanatics, they’ve been killing muggles up North. We tracked them down here for once, hoping to kill some muggles under the ministries noses for the kicks.”  
“Anyone get hurt?”  
“Ron got bruised a little but nothing Hermione couldn’t fix in minutes. He’d do it himself but he likes it when she dotes instead of nags, then again he’ll get an earful for being reckless after he’s bruise free.”  
“I’d do the same if it was you, it generally is to be fair. What happened today? Did Weasley jump in front of you before you could be heroic.”

Harry nudged him, it felt nice for him to be right there. Not away fighting idiots who were like children with wands. They might know the spells but they have no clue how to perform them right and end up blowing up anything within a mile radius.

“They weren’t as strong as they seemed. It was easy for them to kill Muggles but they were shit with spells against trained aurors.”  
“Wish they’d all be like that, weak against wizards, then you’d always be safe.”

Draco placed his finished plate down on the coffee table and nuzzled himself into Harry’s neck.  
“Your hair is getting long,” Harry thought aloud.  
“I’ll go get it cut soon,” Draco lied, he wouldn’t get it cut unless Harry was right there. The thought of scissors so close to his neck made him feel sick.  
“Tomorrow? You’re off aren’t you?”  
“Yeah, but you’re not. I’ll wait for you to be off so you can tell them how to cut it. I want you to like it.”  
Harry moved away and sat up straight. “Draco you can get it cut yourself. I’ll like whatever you do as long as it’s long enough that I can run my fingers through it.” His tone had changed and it made Draco’s stomach drop.  
“But if your there it can be perfect for you,” Draco tried.  
“If this is more about something else, you need to tell me, or at least explain why your so desperate I watch you get your hair cut. No bullshit.”

Draco shuffled away and brought his legs up and onto the couch. How do you explain to your boyfriend that you’re too scared in case someone hurts you? How do you explain the last time you left the flat was Monday and that was only for work? How do you explain that you’re irrationally scared that every step you take outside the flat is one step closer to death?

“It’s nothing,” He lied.  
“Draco,” Harry pressed, “If there’s a problem we can’t fix it unless you talk, or at least communicate the issue in some way, shape or form.”

There was no magic exit to escape out of now. No way he could pass his lies as the truth. Harry had caught on. If he had only stopped pressing about him coming for a haircut. He could’ve done it himself, found a spell and done it at home. Where it was safe.

“I’m scared,” He whispered, if the room wasn’t silent Harry wouldn’t have been able to hear it.  
“Of what,”  
“Everything. Well not exactly everything but everyone. Work’s fine. No one’s going to kill me at work but everywhere else. Without you.” His voice was still quiet but Harry heard it just fine. The can of beans had been spilt and Draco couldn’t scoop them back in.  
“You think,” Harry breathed for a moment, an overwhelming sense of guilt climbing up his throat, “Everyone is going to kill you.”  
“Or hurt me,” Draco added trying to loosen the impact.

He knew it was bad but saying it out loud made him see how bad it really was. It was debilitating and he’d tricked himself into thinking it was fine. That as long as he ate and showered and took care of himself physically that he was fine. His hair might’ve been long but there was no harm with the length it was at.

“How long has this been going on for? Have you ever gone out without me with you”  
“Once or twice with Pansy but even then I went home as soon as I could. She’s had her shit moments with a wand.”  
“I’m taking you to that Doctor Hermione recommended after the war, this isn’t okay Draco.”  
“I don’t need a doctor,” Draco bit back.

He didn’t need someone stirring up old news. He didn’t want to talk about it. Hadn’t he done enough talking, with the aurors, with his parents, even with Harry he’d talked about his troubles. 

“You need someone who isn’t me.”  
“Isn’t work enough, I can talk to people on the phone, I don’t need to leave the flat alone.”  
Harry shook his head. He had no clue how to deal with this, how to help Draco. He’d never done this before.  
“Draco. You can’t live like this or keep depending on me the way you seem to do.”  
“Fine! But no doctor, I’ll fix it myself.” He was frantic now, his voice shaking as his lies crumbled to dust.  
“I’ll get a doctor to come here,” Harry tried, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to force Draco to do anything. Seeing him hurt crushed him from his head to his toes.  
“Please don’t, I feel pathetic as it is.” Draco’s voice though more level still wavered.  
Harry pulled Draco into his arms. It was always a little awkward considering Draco was taller but he melted into Harry’s frame. Harry could feel the goosebumps that had risen on Draco’s skin and the way the hairs rose on top of them. The blonde still shook, quiet tears fell down his face leaving his eyes puffy as he rubbed them dry. He hated that Harry knew, that the lies he’d carefully built up had been smashed with one slip up. Now he had to fix it. He couldn’t disappoint Harry like he’d disappointed everyone else. 

He hadn’t replied to Blaise in months and every message he got from Pansy he left on read. His mother who expected weekly calls had barely received monthly. The only person he’d had continuous contact with was Harry and when he genuinely thought about it like that it scared him. 

He’d fix it if not for himself but for Harry and everyone he’d disappointed. He couldn’t die if he refused to live.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry called in sick, pulling many strings in order for someone to take his shift. He didn’t feel alright leaving Draco alone. A guilt lingered in his gut, how could he have not noticed? There must’ve been signs, things Draco did that felt off but he left alone because it was probably nothing. Things that if he picked up on them sooner Draco wouldn’t be as bad as he was. If he just gave Draco a little more time then maybe he wouldn’t need to see someone else. Maybe Harry would’ve been enough. 

Harry flicked through a muggle newspaper, none of the articles enticing him enough to read on. For the most part he kept his eyes on Draco. Draco’s eyes widened when the scissors came in his eyeline and he fidgeted with the ends of his sleeves when the razor began to buzz. He looked extremely uncomfortable and Harry wished he took him to Molly Weasley instead. Not that doing so was going to help him but it pained Harry to watch him whilst he suffered through his own personal torture.

Draco was positive his heart was climbing up his throat. Trying to escape before his body succumbed to an untimely death. Even Harry’s presence wasn’t enough to calm him down, not when a blade was so close to his head and neck. All he could think was that it could be a radical in disguise, someone sent to cleanse the world of all ex-deatheaters. The mark on his arm was a sure fire way to point him out as a target. It may as well glow neon like a ‘kill me’ sign on his arm. 

Once his hair was done he let Harry pay at the counter, he gave a quick thank you before hurrying out the door. He tried to calm himself down but began hyperventilating as thoughts spun around his mind. One thing he couldn’t push away was the fact he wasn’t safe, that he was in danger as long as he wasn’t in the flat and he pushed it too far by getting his haircut. Harry stood by unsure of what to do, he pulled Draco to the side making sure they weren’t in anyone's way and then sat him down joining him once he was upright.

“It’s fine,” Harry promised, “It’s all fine, your hair is cut, you weren’t hurt, you’re fine.”  
He rubbed soft circles into Draco’s back. All he could do was reassure, promise safety when he had no clue what the future could hold.

Draco couldn’t even squeak, laboured breaths left his lips as he tried to regain control. It never was this bad, he never tested it this far. Pushed the limit until the limit sprang back and punched him in the face. Bile was pushing its way up his throat, he was too nervous to eat breakfast that morning and all that was coming up was burning acid. He choked it back as he tried to avoid eye contact with passersby. Muggles nosely looked at him wondering why a grown man was breaking down outside a barber shop. 

He pulled himself up ignoring Harry’s pleads for him to take a moment. He hated being babied like this. Like he was a child crying about something that didn’t really matter in the scheme of things. He was an adult, he’d been an adult for years. He might not act like a functioning one but physically he was. A living, breathing adult who could perform magic when he wanted and order a pint at a bar.

“Draco, please take your time,” Harry begged, “You can’t act like that didn’t happen, like you weren’t okay a couple of minutes ago.”  
“I’m fine,” Draco snapped back, “I’m fine.”  
Harry tried his hardest not to glare but it shone through his calm facade. He was drowning in worry and Draco had the audacity to say he was okay, to ignore that he wasn’t instead of facing it.   
“Don’t look at me like that, I left the house, I got my hair cut. This is what you wanted isn’t it?”  
They were walking down the street now, angry and full of unresolved tension.   
“I want you to be okay,” Harry cried, “I want to know that you can leave the flat without being terrified!”  
Their words echoed off the concrete pavement. The muggles that were walking up and down it minutes ago had vanished and it was only the two of them. Hurt and arguing.  
“I told you, I’m fine,” Draco lied through his teeth, when was he ever fine? When was this ever considered fine?  
“Yeah and I’m not the boy who lived. You’re hurting Draco and you won’t let me in to help.”  
Draco balled his hands into fists, keeping them away from the wand in his pocket. He wanted to shoot dozens of spells at Harry. Yell “Shut up!” as loud as his lungs would let him. He wanted it to be the way it was the day before, he wanted to go back and lie harder than he ever had before. Most of all, he didn’t want to do another thing he’d regret.  
“I don’t want to let you in. I don’t want you to see anymore than you have.”

And like that he’d apparated back to the flat, his fresh haircut already in tangles. Harry followed shortly after, taking a second to recover from apparating. He never did get use to it the way Draco did.   
“Please don’t run from me,” Harry pleaded.  
“I’m not running,” Draco retorted.  
“If you aren’t running then please inform me on what you are doing so when I call up the doctor I can tell them exactly what you have been doing instead of dealing with your issues.”  
The room went cold and Draco once again had to force bile back down his throat.   
“No doctor,” He snarled, “I don’t want someone picking through my brain like it’s their dinner.”  
“It’s meant to help.”  
“So are aurors, they’re meant to help but when a teenage boy who had no choice is dragged into their interrogation room they don’t help. They sliced apart my mind until I felt like I was in the wrong, like I chose to be stuck in a position I hated.”

It was a sly jab and it went right through Harry’s stomach. The job he went to almost everyday had destroyed his boyfriend. The wrinkled guys he’d replaced had broken the man he loved and made him this, how did he not notice when they first got together. Did he miss Draco’s distaste, replace it as annoyance that he was always working? How many more things had he missed? Was he that blind that he noticed nothing that bothered Draco?

“I’m sorry,” Harry tried.  
“Don’t.”  
“No, Draco, I’m really sorry.”  
“You didn’t seem so sorry when you were threatening to get a doctor. Honestly, Harry, fuck off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't planning to continue this, but here I am.
> 
> Feedback is greatly appreciated! (as well as an incentive to continue this)


	3. Chapter 3

Harry slept on the couch and Draco hated himself all night for it. Even when he was angry he preferred it when Harry slept beside him. He was the knight who warded off the nightmares that continued to plague him. Some nights it’d be Harry dying, others he’d be brought back into the interrogation room. 

The aurors would be shoving their gruff faces into his, spitting as they yelled questions and accusations at him. He’d shake in the cold, metal chair, their wands blinding his eyes as he tried to form a coherent sentence. He could barely place the words he cried back, every sentence he managed was in his defense until he broke completely. Tears flooded down his face as he begged them to leave him alone. He wanted to go home, back to his room and hide away under his bed covers like he did when he was younger and scared.

He had never slept worse. Every hour he seemed to wake up in a similar pool of sweat, desperate to catch his breath as he eyes darted around making sure he was safe. He refused to go get Harry, to ask for help. He’d argued against help for the past two days he wasn’t going to admit he needed it because of some bad dreams.

He got up at six. Not willing to risk another nightmare for an extra hour of sleep. Harry seemed to be in the same boat. The messy hair auror making coffee in the kitchen in a raggedy t-shirt and a pair of boxers. He was stirring his mug when he noticed Draco. The blonde had two purple moons stamped beneath his eyes.

“Do you want a cup?” Harry offered carefully. Both were unsure of what kind of ground they were on.

“Sure,” Draco accepted, playing with the hem of his top.

They were silent for a couple of moments before Harry broke it.

“I’m sorry, if you really don’t want to see a doctor I won’t push.” He handed over a steaming mug full of coffee with milk and one sugar. Just how Draco liked it.

“It’s fine, I’m sorry too I guess. I shouldn’t have been such as dick.”

It hadn’t been so awkward since they first got together. When they were both nervous about holding the others hand and whether or not the other would appreciate compliments. They still weren’t on common ground, Draco could feel it. Harry still wanted him to see somebody and he was still dead set against it.

He could kind of see where Harry was coming from. It might’ve been miles away from where Draco was standing, a miniscule dot on the horizon, but he could see it. And he despised that he could. He wanted to be able to call Harry irrational instead of himself.

“What’s on the work agenda today?” Draco asked.

Harry swallowed his coffee before replying, “Paperwork mostly, which is hell, what about you?”

“Meetings. All day. I’m positive I see Granger more than I see you.”

“As long as the pair of you are getting along I don’t mind.”

The atmosphere was beginning to settle, the storm between them lifting ever so slightly. Draco’s shoulders slumped and he leaned against the counter.

“I’ll start getting along with her when she realised house elves like their jobs. She might be bright but she can’t get the basic concept that they like serving wizards through her head.”

Harry laughed, “She’s more stubborn that you at the best of times.”

“I’ll never get how Weasley deals with her,” He jokes.

All ill intent he harboured towards Hermione at Hogwarts had left once the war was over. She wasn’t a ‘mudblood’ she was a muggleborn. His parents views didn’t matter after he found his own opinions. Though she still bugged him with her know-it-all attitude the pair got along fine after a little push from Harry. Neither wanted to hurt him over past feelings so Draco apologised and they had a mostly civil conversation that ended with them agreeing to get along. He still bashed heads with Ron, a friendship which Harry gave up on forming years ago. They’d talk about quidditch every so often but there never was much common ground. They did however partake in wizards chess every time the other was up to it, the games becoming legendary as they both fought furiously to win.

-

Draco arrived at work first. Greeting his desk as he always did. With a groan. He wondered if he could petition against the heavy influx of work, making up some bull about it being against Wizard’s Working Policies. He summoned his calendar, it showed him exactly what he told Harry. Meetings upon meetings. About new laws, policies and projects. He yearned for his bed or at least the couch with Harry too cuddle up to. 

He jerked his focus away from his calendar when a mousey intern came knocking on his door.

“Minister Granger has requested that you join her to review today’s meetings before they began,” Her voice was full of nerves and Draco couldn’t bring himself to upkeep his harsh mask.

“Tell her I’ll be there soon and you don’t need to be so nervous. I don’t bite.”

She scurried off leaving Draco back to his own devices. His words left an odd taste in his mouth, subtle lies that would be disapproved after he lost his cool when someone gave him a sheet with the wrong data on it within the next week. He was terrible at being nice when it came to his work, he could be impressed and he’d laugh at the odd joke but he had a very low tolerance for mistakes. 

His co-workers always joked that he was a bomb. You could be around him, you could even touch him but if you do it the wrong way he’d blow up in your face. He’d tried to change, to act nicer but it never lasted long. Malfoy’s weren’t known for their serenity just the destruction they left in their wake.

He began his walk to Hermione’s office. A few corridors and two sets of stairs. He’d been up there more times than he could count. When Hermione really wanted to push it, Ron, Harry, Draco and Herself would drink fire whiskey until every floor in the ministry was deserted. They’d leave drunk and staggering, an owl would give them a letter the next day saying they could take the day off. The day off would’ve been enjoyable if wizards had a spell or potion that cured killer hangovers.

He didn’t have a chance to knock twice as the door swung open revealing Hermione Granger. Sitting at her desk with a cup of tea, twirling a strand of her curly hair around her finger.

"Morning,” She greeted him, grabbing a mug from one of her desk drawers and filling it up with tea. She pushed it to the opposite side of her desk, in front of a horrid crimson chair that deserved to be incinerated. In one of their drunken escapades Hermione told them it reminded her school days. Draco had no clue what the furniture in the Gryffindor common room looked like but even the style of the chair didn’t remind him of the way the Slytherin common room was furnished. 

Despite his views on the chair he sat down and began drinking his tea. He should’ve known that it would be sugarless. 

“I don’t usually come up here before meetings Granger, so unless there’s a fantastic job opportunity for me I’m guessing Harry asked you to do this.” His words were dripping in his usual snark.

Hermione’s expression drooped, “He’s worried.” That was all she said. That Harry was worried. As if Draco didn’t understand. Like he was a child again getting told by the house elves that his father wasn’t coming home for dinner and that his mother had once again retired to her room for the night. 

“I know. And if that’s all Granger, I have a meeting in ten minutes which is more important than your fake sympathy.”

“If it was fake, Malfoy, I would’ve plastered on a smile and told you that a doctor was your best bet,” She spat.

“What did he tell you?” He asked hurt evident on his face.

“Er,” It was her turn to be in the hot seat, to be asked and told things she didn’t want to be told, “He, um, he told me that you were, um, having trouble getting out of the house. And you had an issue with a haircut.” Her face was bright red.

“Did you think that in that entire conversation, that maybe, I didn't want you to know. That  _ I  _ didn’t want you involved or is Harry all you think about? And I thought we were starting to become friends,” He snarled. His emotions were everywhere.

Upset. Hurt. Angry

Was anyone on his side bar him? Or was everyone in it for Harry. 

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

His blood boiled beneath his pale skin. Old Draco would have never had a pity party with himself. He’d never sit with a tub of ice cream and a battered copy of The Tales of Beedle and Bard trying to keep composure before his boyfriend got home. Old Draco instead would have been a brat and whined to his father resulting in the one who crossed him to receive a well written threat via Owl Post. New Draco wasn’t in Hogwarts anymore, his father was rotting in Azkaban and he’d shed his old skin. New Draco was better in most ways. 

New Draco would’ve been ripped to shreds by Old Draco. 

He’d finished the entire tub by the time Harry came home. He jumped up ready to face his loose-lipped boyfriend only to crumble at the sight of him. His eyes were red and puffy, tears stained his cheeks and his breaths were uneven. Draco helped him to the couch and wrapped his slim arm around Harry’s broad shoulders.

“What’s wrong?”  
“I just. I just. I. You’re sick.” He continued to choke on his words, the syllables catching on their way up his throat, “You’re sick and works stressful. I can’t control everything. More Muggles were killed today and I was stuck doing paperwork. I’m shit at this. I can’t help you and I can’t help people who I’m meant to help.”

Draco pulled him close. Whispering reassurance into Harry’s ear as he twirled around strands of his dark hair. It was odd to be on the other side. The helper instead of the one in need of help. Once Harry calmed down, they separated. 

Harry rubbed at his face and dried off his neck which was left wet with tears he hadn’t tried to catch.   
“You okay?” Draco tried, carefully treading as to not set off another bout of tears.  
“Fine,” Harry hiccuped, giving a weak smile. “I’m sorry about that. You know I’m not usually so damn emotional.”  
Draco gave him the look, the one that screamed get over yourself, that it was okay to cry because you’re human, not a robot, “I like it when you get emotional, not the sad part but the part where you seem less perfect. It’s a glimpse into the Harry you are and not the Harry that hides behind a ten inch thick mask.”  
“God I would never have guessed you were the sappy sort, Malfoy.”  
“Oh, shut up, Potter.”

They broke out into a fit of laughter. For once they didn’t feel imperfect, instead they felt light. Floating on endorphins as if their worries had vanished.

“Fuck,” Draco laughed, “I was meant to be pissed at you.”  
“Why?” Harry asked as he began to calm himself down, his stomach aching.  
“You told Granger everything. She took it upon herself to talk to me and merlin did it set me off.”

He was still slightly high off the laughter but an edge grew on his words. The hurt he’d suppressed was rising and he suddenly missed who he was five minutes prior. 

“I was trying to get a second opinion,” Harry defended himself, “I didn’t know what to do and I knew she’d had issues in the past.”  
“Yeah, like I can imagine Granger scared to leave the house. She’d make sure she could get out so she could beat everyone else at being the best.”  
“She struggled a lot more than she let on, we all did.”

Draco knew none of them came out of the war unscathed. It was impossible when you understood what was going on. People were injured, tortured, died or survived. All four options had their cons. The only ones who got peace died and most did so prematurely. Missing out on life’s wonders. Too many of those deaths clung to both Draco and Harry’s consciences. Draco blamed himself for them dying and Harry blamed himself for not saving them. Neither had fond memories when it came to those years. The few that did appear just reminded them that they could’ve been doing more to stop what was happening.

“Don’t do it again, please. I feel like Granger towers above me enough as it is.”  
“Hardly, she’s jealous of your cold personality. She can be snappy but she hates the fact afterwards. You just get on with it. It frustrates her to no end.”  
“Great, she’s jealous of my lack of empathy, I should be proud,” Draco sarcastically drawls.  
“Come on, Draco take it as a compliment.”  
“I will when I find it even slightly endearing.”  
Harry shook his head playfully, “Hermione doesn’t do endearing like that.”  
“When she does start to become endearing in the normal way, I’ll accept it as a compliment.”  
“You’re hopeless.” Harry grinned. It was nice to work things out like that. So that by the end they were joking around. They’d at least be sleeping beside each other when night came. Even with a dozen spells the couch always left his back aching in the morning.

Draco got up and shuffled to the kitchen. More content that he usually was after they’d talked about issues. He was often left drained, wanting nothing more than to get away from Harry and try to doze off under the warmth of his duvet.

“Do you want something to eat?” He asked as he rummaged through their mostly empty cupboards.  
“Not if you’re cooking.”  
Draco gave a dramatic gasp, “My cooking is just fine.”  
“Only if I want a plate of charcoal or food poisoning.”  
“Well it’s just your luck that we have nothing but stale crackers,” Draco huffed.  
“I’ll order something in.” Harry said summoning his phone.

They’d become acquainted with phones a couple of years after the war. It was faster than owl post and with a click of a button they could get a hold of someone. It was especially funny when Harry gave Arthur Weasley his own phone which he chose to dissect to see how it lit up. He bombarded Hermione with questions when she came over for dinner about how phone calls were made and why signal cut out in certain places. Molly was shutting him up by his fifteenth question as Hermione hadn’t gotten a chance to eat and her meal was going cold.

“What’re you going to order?”  
“Chinese, probably.”  
Draco screwed up his nose, “Again?”  
“Unless you plan on calling for it, then yes.”  
“Fine, but I’m asking Mrs Wealsey if we can come over for dinner tomorrow, you need something homemade.”  
“Says the guy who ate a pint of ice cream in one sitting.”  
“I offered to cook.”  
“That doesn’t cancel out the pint of ice cream,” Harry retorted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been at this for over a week and had no clue what to write. This is the fourth version of this chapter, the other three were deleted. I hope this is okay!
> 
> Feedback is appreciated :)


	5. Chapter 5

Molly ushered them both inside before they had a chance to knock. She’d always had the psychic ability to know when Harry had arrived, a built in Potter tracker. Draco used to find it funny before he longed for a similar figure for himself. His own Molly Weasley who had a shining golden heart.

The smell of home cooking and a smidgen of cinnamon filled their noses as they sat down in the one place they could always call home. Even when the Weasley’s had harsher feelings towards Draco they still let him in (there were still a few insults thrown by Ron, George and Ginny though). 

“How’s work?” Molly asked, keeping her eyes on a boiling pot whilst simultaneously magically chopping up vegetables.  
“Rough as always, hasn’t Ron been keeping you up to date?”  
“Doing his usual, ignoring his mother. Hermione sends her letters weekly though, likes to keep out the gritty bits.”

Harry winced, memories of recent events flooded back to him. The number of dead eater copycats was rising and the muggle bodycount was too high in generally quiet areas. Draco squeezed his hand in comfort but all the affection in the world couldn’t save the people Harry missed.

The growing silence was interrupted by a knock at the door.  
“That’ll be them now,” Molly smiled.

In came a casually dressed Ron and a messy-haired Hermione, rosy cheeked and uncomfortable. They both forced out pleasant formalities, hugging each other loosely and saying hellos. Once they all sat down the silence returned and Molly shook her head.

“The four of you better make up before dinner, I’m not dealing with the drama you lot have created amongest yourselves.”

With that they were shooed out of the kitchen and into the living room. All four of them, grown adults, stuck in what was basically a time-out until they said sorry.

“I always knew you were still a git, someone like you can’t change Malfoy,” Ron growled, he pointed at Hermione, “She tried to help you and instead you had to be an arse.”  
“I don’t need someone trying to fix me Weasley,” Draco snarled back, “Tell your wife to mind her own business.”

It took a second for both wands to be whipped out and pointed at each other.  
“Apologise, Malfoy, or I swear to Merlin you won’t see tomorrow.”

Harry had never seen Ron so aggressive and protective. Ron was a sulker not a confronter, he fought for the big things not the crumbs that had been left to lie but everything was flipped on its head when it came to Hermione.

“We all know who’s better with a wand Weasley and it’s not you.”  
“There’s only one way to find out, FLIPEN-”  
“Stop it!” Hermione yelled, “FirstlyI don’t need a knight in shining armour Ronald and secondly I wasn’t trying to fix you Draco, I was trying to help but you’re so far up your own arse that you can’t see that you need it.”  
Draco’s wand dropped to the floor and the blonde wizard walked out. Harry didn’t attempt to run after him, he just pocketed Draco’s wand and followed Hermione and Ron into the kitchen to apologise to Molly.

-

The burrow’s bathroom was cramped. He was too big to sit with his legs out so he had them slightly bent and he could touch every wall by just stretching out his arms. The only thing he couldn’t reach was the ceiling. It took two minutes for him to think without anger surrounding everyone down stairs clouding his mind. The anger wasn’t really the problem when he got to thinking, the doubt and worry trumped everything else.

He knew he should’ve held his ground but he felt like everything was caving in. Hermione was wrong, he knew he needed help. He just despised the idea of someone pulling apart his brain. Just the idea made him shiver and sweat. Even if Herrmione meant no harm in what she did, it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. 

What if Ron was right though? What if he really hadn’t changed? Could he still be the boy who thought he’d buried under the rubble of the war? Or was he now letting insecurity crawl into his rationality once again? He held back a frustrated scream. His patience for himself wearing thin. He was useless as he was. Incapable of functioning normally in society but still somehow able to argue back to people who he believed to care about him.

A snort escaped him, then a giggle and then he blurted out into a fit of inappropriate laughter. He sat, hysterical, as tears began to roll and the laughter began to sound manic. He was tired. Tired of himself and others trying to fix him. Tired of being a walking disappointment. Tired of thinking like an angsty teenager when he was meant to be an adult.

It took five minutes of his ridiculous laughter for Harry to come barging in. Worry across his exhausted face.

“What is wrong with you?” He asked with as much sincerity as he could. It still came out with a twinge of annoyance though.  
“Oh,” Draco’s laughter got louder, “I’m - I’m-” he could barely speak a word “Merlin, I’m fucked.”  
Harry slumped down beside him, “ At this point who isn’t?”  
“Where’s my wand?” He wheezed.  
Harry pulled it from his back pocket and handed it to Draco with little hesitation.

Draco sedated himself with a spell and leaned against the bathtub. He felt like an ass. He’d ruined an entire evening with his issues. And now he was hiding away in the bathroom, lying against the Weasley’s uncomfortable bathtub, contemplating whether or not he should get help even when the thought of it makes him feel worse.

“Before you ask, I’ll apologise to Granger but Weasley can shove it up his arse,” Draco told Harry, wiping the wetness of his face with his shirt sleeve.  
“He’s just protective over ‘Mione. Though Merlin knows why because she could’ve killed both of you ten times over and had you back in tact for Molly’s dinner.”  
“I didn’t think our conversation had affected her all that much, in hindsight I was a bit harsh.”  
Harry wrapped his arm around Draco and pulled him in close. “It was my fault for being so loose lipped, I could have saved a load of hassle tonight if I just left things alone.”  
“I agree but if I was still talking to Pansy she’d know a little too much about you too.”  
“This will be the only time I’m glad you aren’t on good terms with your friends. And if you aren’t going to therapy could you at least talk to your friends again? For me.”  
It was now Draco’s turn for shaking his head. 

For him.

Most things he did these days he did for Harry. There were very few hurdles he wouldn’t jump for his boyfriend. Most of the ones he refused to jump were directly involved with him and not at all involved with Harry. Those ones he tossed away into the forgotten corner of his mind. He’d face them when he was forced. And even then he’d try and find an excuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I've had a lot of school stuff on lately. This isn't the best chapter I've written but it's something.
> 
> Feedback is appreciated :)


	6. Chapter 6

Draco pretended to still be asleep when Harry woke up for work. Allowing Harry to say his usual “I love you” and “see you later” as well as the morning peck he always missed whilst he was asleep. He sits up once he hears the front door shut, the flat felt empty again.

Hermione had given him paid leave until he sorted out his mental health, even after the harsh words they’d exchanged she was still doing him favours. He’d repay her as soon as he got a chance. At that moment though he just sent an apology via text, he hoped Ron wasn’t going to be at his throat next time they saw each other, all he needed was to continue to piss off one of Harry’s friends.

Hermione wasn’t the only person he had to apologise to. At Harry’s request he was going to reconnect with his friends. Blaise would only need a catch up drink and even then by the end of the night he would be with a random girl he’d picked up whilst Draco went back to the flat to sleep in a warm bed with Harry. Pansy however would need more convincing before she let Draco come back into her life.

She’d learned the hard way that being nice wasn’t the way to make it through life. After moving to Paris to pursue a career in fashion, she quickly picked up on the behaviours that would help her go far. She had to be witty and sharp. She couldn’t take any bullshit from anyone. And if someone famous was there she would be charming and not obviously kiss their ass. She’d become stronger whilst in Paris but it also meant Draco couldn’t get away with being such a shitty friend.

She texted him for a week without a reply before she stopped trying completely. He’d felt guilty at the time but fear quickly overwhelmed him and the guilt became a tiny buzz in the corner of his mind. That was until recently, where it became a loud screech at the front of his brain. 

He’d hovered over her name multiple times, wondering whether he was ready. He never was. But today was the day he was going to phone her and beg for her forgiveness. He’d grovel if it was necessary. Anything as long as by the end of the phone call they were at least back on speaking terms.

He didn’t hesitate to click her name on his phone, though his leg bounced whilst he listened to it ring. When he heard her voice through the line he struggled to formulate a word.

“Hello?” Pansy greeted him.

He managed a “hello” back but discomfort was turning his stomach around inside of him.

“Draco, what a  _ pleasant _ surprise,” she said sarcasm dripping from her words, “You have two seconds to tell me why you’ve ignored me for merlin knows how many months or you can fuck off.”

“First, I’m sorry,” He apologised. 

Pansy laughed through the phone, “I’d like to speak to Draco now,” she joked, “The one that doesn’t know what an apology is.”

“Pans, please,” he pleaded, “I’m trying to apologise. I’ve had a rough time lately and I shouldn’t have ignored you but it was harder to speak to you then it was to just ghost you completely.”

“Define ‘rough time’.”

Draco scratched at his arm. Apologising was one thing. Explaining was another.

“Can I not?” He asked, “I love you, Pans. I really do but it’s not as easy as just explaining what happened.”

“Okay. If not now, then can you promise that you will at some point? If you ignoring me wasn’t a fault of mine then I’d like at least some explanation. If you aren’t ready now then so be it. I won’t force it. But at some point, Draco, please. I care about you too and if I can help, I’d like to”

“Thanks Pans”

“No problem, now I love you and all but I’ve got a meeting in ten minutes and I need to make sure everything is in order.”

“I’ll talk to you later, Pansy.”

“Talk to you later, Draco, I mean it. No disappearing acts again.”   
“Okay, bye.”

“Bye.”

The line went dead and he let out a breath. He’d done it. He’d successfully reconnected and apologised to Pansy and nothing had gone horribly wrong. The walls hadn’t fallen in on him, a freak accident hadn’t destroyed his flat, no one had died. It went fine.

-

With all the time Draco would be spending at home he decided he couldn’t continue to live off of take-out and ice cream. Not when Harry knew he wasn’t leaving the flat. So he searched up some easy recipes online and decided to make a meal for himself and Harry that didn’t set the flat on fire and was edible by most standards.

He started by chopping up some tomatoes and boiling water for pasta. He switched on some music and got into a rhythm. He finished the vegetables and placed the pasta in the boiling pot. Once he was finished he plated the pasta, then the sauce and he had two decent looking plates of food.

On time Harry walked through the door, tired and hungry.

“I made dinner,” Draco told him before Harry could even get in a hello.

“Is it edible,” Harry teased.

Draco playfully slapped him on the shoulder, “Yes, it is.”

Harry peeled his work jacket from his shoulders and sat down, his plate already in front of him. Draco sat across from him, waiting for him to take a bite. He took a fork full and carefully ate it. For a second he looked content, then he screwed up his face before he quickly made sure he looked happy.

“It’s bad isn’t it?”

Harry swallowed, “No,” he lied.

“You’re a shit liar.”   
“You’ve done better than I thought you would.”

Draco glared, “better but it’s not great is it.”   
"It’s really salty,” Harry admitted

“The recipe said to put that much in.”   
“I think you need to get your eyes checked, it tastes like you’ve put in a box of salt.”

Draco huffed, “I tried.”   
“I know you did, it looks great.”

“I need you to get more ingredients so I can try again.”

“Why don’t you go tomorrow?”

“I’ll wait for you to be there, shopping is boring alone”   
And dangerous he thought. Even in muggle shops someone could be waiting for him.

“If you say so,” Harry replied not willing to get into an argument.

“I do say so.”

“I’ll ask to get off early tomorrow so we can go together. Shopping is better than paperwork.”

Draco pecked Harry’s cheek and whispered a thank you into his ear. 

He was starting to get better but he wasn’t ready for some things yet and if Harry understood that then maybe everything would be a little smoother.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I don't know to feel about this. Also I've failed at writing everyday this month I forgot how much school sucks out of me.
> 
> Feedback is greatly appreciated.


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